


Pour Your Snuggle On Me

by PseudoFox



Series: The Evergreens [3]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anthropomorphic, Christmas, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Furry, Gen, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suspense, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8836450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoFox/pseuds/PseudoFox
Summary: It's almost Christmastime in Bunnyburrow, and Nick Wilde spends some time with the amazing rabbits that have taken him in. Yet the frosty weather plus the problems with the heating system get on the mammals' nerves. Even more importantly, while things appear stable enough, a visitor coming in from downtown Zootopia could turn the Hopps family's situation upside down. This is a part of my 'Evergreen Series', which is inspired by the 'Zistopia' alternate universe.





	

A large crowd of bunnies gathered inside of the ancient burrow for what the Hopps' extended family jokingly called the 'Eve of Christmas Eve'. Sadly, the festivities in that particular house had dragged on from mostly pleasant to mostly irritating. Layers of thick wood gave some protection from the elements, but the fierce winter storm pounding upon Bunnyburrow still shot plenty of cold air inside. A huge group of mammals laid about in a massive living room— sitting close to each other in the warmest place around.

One particular bunny muttered under her breath how she wished that she was back in bed. Trying her best to distract herself, the rabbit's eyes locked upon a swinging, fuzzy thing in front of her. Every little dance of Nick Wilde's tail upon the soft rug made the small bunny concentrate even harder, her eyes locking on like a plane about to fire a missile. The fox shifted to the side of the chair, scratching his neck as his jumped over to the right.

The bunny's arms stretched out, moving without a single conscious thought. They stopped only a single inch away from the fox's body. Paws quivering in the air, desire surged through the little one's mind. The bunny wanted so badly to just clutch that fluff as tightly as she could— damned be the consequences.

"And I said it: _'Yes, we have no bananas'_ ," declared an elderly rabbit, waving his paws in the air, "with that, the nasty ol' otter in the pinstripe suit sped on down the street! Thanks to your own Uncle Walter, he's never been seen or heard from since!" He beamed from his spot on the couch opposite Nick's chair over toward the other rabbits.

The spread of various bunnies before the two of them— the small ones ranging from short to bean-pole tall, from young to middle-aged, from tired to wide awake, and more— murmured out various half-interested noises at the end of the story. The older rabbit laid back flat on the couch, taking in a deep breath. Walter glanced over at Nick.

The fox grinned cheek to cheek. That he had heard the story countless times in the past several weeks— listening intently as the family sheltered him— barely mattered. Walter's ramblings had gotten to point that Nick would literally recite them, word for word, while in his sleep. Yet the fox felt too deeply grateful to stop pretending to want to hear them again and again. His smile at that moment came as naturally as breathing.

"Uncle," remarked a female bunny at the end of the crowd, "are you _sure_ that there's nothing that you, that mom, that dad, or that anyone else at all can do to fix the heat?" She made a little show of gripping her scarf tightly against her body. Her large buckteeth accidentally bit into the edge of the fabric.

A few sounds of approval murmured out from the group of rabbits. Many of them glared angrily at the large device crammed into the side of the wall beside them. The black buttons and grey knobs remained as stubbornly stuck as ever. Nothing came out of the machine except the ever more oppressive winter air.

"Oh, well," the older rabbit began, "I'm sure that my sister would get pretty steamed if I busted out the 'ol tools again. Especially after what happened when I tried my paw at repairs Tuesday... " He trailed off. Walter's eyes migrated around the various knickknacks and other objects full of memories laid about all over the huge living room. He didn't have to mention how his attempts at fixing a fancy food processor had resulted in part of it launching straight upwards like a bottle rocket. "Kids, I think it's probably time for me and your orange fluffy friend to check in with Bonnie and Juliet."

"We can give them another moment," Nick interjected, stretching in his spot and leaning down more to the side. He didn't have to say anything about Bonnie's daughter Judy doggedly following her mother around as well. Nick and Walter gave each other knowing looks and understood.

Neither of them wanted to put Nick in the situation of standing face to face with the bunny police officer. Even making regular small talk with Judy appeared daunting, let alone perhaps blundering into a real conversation with someone that'd come home from downtown Zootopia right after chasing around criminal predators. "Bonnie and Judy would get pretty upset, you're right, if we put a stop to them makin' that carrot cake," Walter remarked.

"Hey," muttered one of the younger bunnies in the middle of the living room, "what's..." He stopped as he loudly shivered— his fancy-looking blue jacket stretched comically over his limbs didn't help him one bit. "Look, Uncle, we're going to get warm one way or another."

"There's," Nick began, but he immediately stopped. The fox sensed a burst of movement underneath him, hearing the noises of scattered steps on the thick rug. Nick chuckled. "Oh, I'll go ahead and say it: _go for it, Harriet!_ "

Harriet jumped forward. She gripped Nick's huge, fluffy tail— having gotten even fuzzier than usual that holiday season— with every part of her body that she could. Nick found himself shoved down. The fox nearly fell right off the chair. "Wow, hey lil' hippity-hop," Nick cried out, feeling one part pain plus three parts amusement, "you could've taken me out to dinner first!"

The dozen rabbits sitting before the scene gazed on; their eyes grew wide as dinner plates. Nick felt a sudden wave of confusion. He glanced over and saw his reflection in a mirror. Harriet clutched his entire tail so tightly— massaging her face directly upon the fluff— that the tiny rabbit hung in the air below the chair. She looked something like a swinging wind-chime in a cold breeze.

Meanwhile, three female bunnies scurried about in the nearby kitchen. Juliet sighed happily as she picked up a massive carrot cake— feeling as proud and accomplished as a general after a major battle victory. Judy and her mother both remained deep in conversation in the other end of the kitchen.

"Look, just listen to me! Did you see how _fast_ that fox ran around playing catch with the girls? Jumping around outside before the storm started?" asked Judy, tapping a paw on her neck. She continued staring out through the snow-covered window, trying to restrain the frustration in her voice. "What do you think his heart-rate had to have been when he tumbled onto that tree stump? _Off the charts_ , that's what!"

"I don't see what that proves, sweetheart," Bonnie replied, lowering her voice while continuing to wash the dishes. She had rehearsed that soft yet otherwise blank monotone countless times. That tone of voice had pushed Judy around like a hungry shopper shoving a grocery store cart back when the bunny was growing up.

"It's not just that, mom! It's the leaping! The yelling! The spinning around!" Judy gripped the sides of her police uniform, stretching the fabric as she went on. "The _everything else_ , can't you see that? Or, of course, you don't _want_ to see that."

"Nick's not really that physical," Bonnie responded, "and, well, none of that necessarily means anything."

Turning over and opening up the refrigerator, Judy's eyes locked on her unhappy reflection in a big bottle of ketchup. She could tell from her crumpled up cheeks that the house's broken heat irritated her just as much as everyone else. "It's simply... I'm sorry," Judy remarked, "but I'm not going to stop thinking that he's one of those _'evergreens'_."

The word dropped like a bomb. After a few seconds of tense silence, she turned to the microwave in frustration. As she opened it up, feeling a burst of joy at the warm air blowing against her face, she heard her mother making a small sigh. Juliet, for her part, simply slipped off into another room. Judy idly flipped around the bottle of ketchup in her paws as she tried to think. The rabbits all knew how advertisements in the papers, programs on television, and even government-sponsored gossip among neighbors promoted those with deactivated collars as some kind of secret criminal network out to destroy the prey way of life. Hunting them down was a top priority.

"The butter is," Judy muttered, finding herself zone out as she leaned her face onto the microwave, "it's stashed... somewhere..." She thought about how just the word by itself— 'evergreen' all by its lonesome— triggered waves of fear and disgust when it got mentioned in the media. That some predators could do anything without their collar reacting at all naturally broke some serious taboos.

Wandering off mentally, Judy reflected on how she'd dreamed of being a police officer since the earliest days of her childhood. Naturally, she had internalized all of the government rhetoric, trying to psych herself up best as she could. After all, figure of respect after figure of respect— church leaders, television pundits, expert sociologists, notable politicians, wizened biologists, business moguls, and basically everybody else in between— agreed that collars were the only way.

Nonetheless, Judy didn't like actually _enforcing_ the laws keeping predator species under heel. Making them wear such awful devices that punished them every time their heart-rate spiked up too fast, hearing their cries for mercy that never got fulfilled, seeing the defeated looks in their eyes when they realized that they could do nothing, and everything else, it all hit her so hard. The transition from waltzing confidently out of the academy and walking the beat on the job felt as stark as day and night.

Judy's eyes migrated from the ketchup over to a set of sweetened coffee drinks on the counter. Her mind flashed through how recent police crackdowns pushed new officers, not just her but mammal after mammal alike, that they had started guzzling down anything with enough caffeine. Judy, for her part, even considered prescription medications if they'd stop the rare yet terrifying nightmares. Every other evening, lost in the haze of her dreams, she felt what it might be like to have an electric noose around _her_ neck instead. With that terrible device blasting shocks into her fur, she wiggled helplessly as she slept. Judy woke up dripping with sweat more than once.

Judy clutched a coffee— nearly dropping the ketchup right on the floor. She made a save with her feet and bounced the bottle back into the refrigerator. Judy repeated under her breath the mantra that kept her going: 'the law is the law'. They called Zootopia's police agencies 'law enforcement' for a reason, she thought, and she tried to force herself to remember how she'd seen, along with the other recruits coming in that month, a full multimedia presentation going into depth about it all. Respected scientific evidence said that predators just couldn't help it. The consensus of those with the experience and understanding to know was clear: predators could only live with prey if something drastic held back the desire to hunt and kill that was _literally_ embedded in their predatory DNA. Fumbling for a dish of butter, Judy murmured to herself that even if she suspected that that government was wrong, resisting this idea felt like lighting a candle out in the middle of a snowstorm.

. She

"Sweetheart?" Bonnie asked, clinking a glass upon the table behind them, "are you okay? _Hey?_ "

Judy snapped back to full attention— shoving herself out of the sea of raging emotion going on inside of her. She spun around, put down the dish of butter with a noisy clank, and glared angrily at plate of warmed-up rice. Her mother gently rubbed a paw against her shoulder, which only made her feel worse. Judy gripped the rice, hopped over to the center of the table, and loudly plopped it down well. Seeing her reflection once again, this time scowling across the side of a big tea-cup, the police officer realized that her ears had gone into a tell-tale droop.

Judy sensed her mother stepping over behind her yet again. "I'm sorry, but if I ever got clear-cut proof about this fox," declared Judy, taking a gulp, "you know I'd have to call it in. And I _would_ , Mom."

Though her heart raced, Bonnie went calmly from massaging her daughter's back to doing the dishes. So well practiced in these lies— all of them multiplying day after day as Nick stayed with the massive family— they had become as routine as daily chores. "Well," Bonnie calmly remarked, "he's probably just got a lot of self-control."

Loose wolves went among lambs. Loose foxes went among rabbits. Even ferrets and weasels, which were small enough, tried hide among the rodents. The very thought of that kind of mixing represented an affront to the social rules that were literally carved into stone as part of Zootopian legislative ceremonies. Judy mulled that all over as she took a seat on a hard wooden chair, shoving the plate of rice way from her. It brushed up beside the big carrot cake as the bunny tried to lean back.

She needed solid evidence that a collar had gotten seriously tampered with— becoming nothing more than a meaningless piece of metal and plastic around a predator's neck— before properly investigating. She wouldn't dare start something so sensitive unless it was all 'by the book'. That was how she had done it with those hapless wolves back in downtown Zootopia, taking that approach being the only way that she could get through that assignment with her sanity intact. The words 'cautious' and 'objective' both got drilled into her during training. Yet, at that very moment, Judy's instincts screamed at her to not even start in the first place.

"Mom..." she muttered. She thought that she had the beginning of a question forming in her mind, but the imaginary words simply vanished with her mouth still open. Finding everything just looking and feeling somehow blank— as white as the snow coating outside of the window— she suddenly turned around and hugged Bonnie from behind.

Over in the nearby living room, the little bunnies anxiously wiggled about on the rug as they glanced futilely in various directions. Walter paid them some attention, trying and failing to recall some more corny, pun-filled jokes. Yet he found himself distracted by his own shivering. Without even realizing it, Walter had started to burrow into the cheap, plain couch in which he sat. Nick chuckled to himself— noticing the older rabbit looking something like a mole inside of the stained, cream-colored fabric.

"Enough complainin', pretty please," Walter abruptly burst out, a pillow falling off of his head onto the wall-space behind the couch, "kids— all of you, _listen to me_ — I don't like the winter cold any more than you do, but this chatter won't help one bit."

" _Unky,_ " groaned a fat bunny with stripes across his grey fur, knowing exactly how much Walter hated that nickname, "if you grown-ups don't do something, and like _now_ , we're going to freaking _freeze_ our tails off!"

The rest of the crowd murmured in agreement. The older rabbit stopped, scanning the entire room, and loudly sighed. Before he could say anything, however, the same striped bunny suddenly stood up straight.

"Well, I know what _I'm_ gonna do," he declared— wiggling his tail and preparing to hop.

"Oof!" Nick cried out. The small one hurled himself right onto Nick's thigh, paws digging into the fox's body. The predator instinctively reached out and clutched the striped bunny by the shoulders. "Well, okay, I don't exactly _mind_." Nick slid his head to the side, shaking his tail a little even as the other rabbit still held it tightly. "It's just not really a solution for _all_ of you, now is it?"

"Oh, I've got idea," Walter exclaimed, burrowing out of the couch. With his eyes opened up wide, the younger rabbits turned their focus over to him. "How about we crank the radio back on and sing along to some Christmas carols?"

The entire group aside from the aged bunny and the amused fox let out a torrent of exasperated moans. Walter mumbled something inaudible while he looked at the mini-sea of frowns and then at the hallway out of the living room. He could hear from various noises and bits of conversation that Bonnie, Judy, and Juliet all had plenty of cooking left to do. Forced to deal with everything alone, Walter scratched his wrinkle-coated face for a moment.

"Sorry, but Uncle Walter," remarked a light white rabbit, looking almost as skinny as a telephone pole, "if I hear another one of those holiday songs again, my ears might start to actually _bleed_. It's just—" She hopped over and leaned up against one of Nick's legs. Her cheek slipped up and down upon the predator's thick orange fur. "They're all the same. Different musicians, maybe, but they spurt out the same lame old rhymes that we've heard over and over again."

"I guess she, _oh-hey-hold-on_ —" The skinny girl jumped onto the edge of Nick's lap, cuddling his belly. The fox sputtered for a second before getting back to the point. "Honestly, I think that she's right." Nick looked down and reached out with both paws. He gently pet the heads of the two young rabbits, enjoying their bright smiles as he rubbed around their ears. The third bunny still pressed up against his tail.

"Cousin Nick, speaking of you, anyways," said a pretty, soft-looking bunny in the middle of the room, her bright red bow matching her crimson cheeks as they almost glowed in the cold air, "why don't we play from that little computer-ish thing that you carry around?"

Nick gulped as the fat rabbit on his lap grabbed his shirt— the fox's head yanked down. "Yeah!" The young rabbit looked up and made a huge smile. "Forget all of that holly-jolly, jingle-jangle-junk!" The predator let out a small noise as yet another rabbit suddenly grabbed him— this new companion digging into his shoulder from the adjacent chair.

"Hey," the fox murmured, feeling tiny paws accidentally grabbing his neck, "easy on the squeezing and choking—"

"I so wanna," remarked the fat bunny, "play some of that big, loud, strong, and powerful _predator rock_!" He put forth those last two words like some kind of challenge— almost as if he mouthed off an R-rated profanity in front of the toddlers.

"Oh, even if cousin Nick wants to as well," Walter started to respond, his eyes focusing back on the hallway, "remember that Judy just back from Zootopia. I think that she would feel _really_ awkward if she heard any pre-collar predator—"

"So _what_ if it was made before the predators had to have the," the red-bow rabbit began. Yet she suddenly stopped as she locked eyes with the fox— becoming very conscious of how she nudged her freezing body against his warm arm. "Umm..." She strained to think of how to put things delicately. "The you-know-what's put on their you-know-where's... what I'm saying is: the music from before the cops started all of that stuff, really, just _rocks_!"

The kids began calling out names, each one bringing a little chorus of happy noises.

" _Fur Fighters_! Singing about making their way back home as they 'Learn To Fly'!"

" _Slivertiger_! Singing about how they 'Ain't Comin' Home'— 'cuz the devil gave them nine full lives!"

"All of those groups named after dangerous stuff! Like _Gun_! _Thunder_! _Poison_! _The Darkness_! That last one— they 'Believe In a Thing Called Love'!"

"What about the Deaf Leopards?" That remark from Harriet— the bunny scurrying up Nick's tail onto his already crowded lap— brought the biggest bunch of cheers yet. Walter buried his face in his paws in sheer annoyance while a bunch of little rabbits stamped around on the floor.

"Yeah!" Harriet yelled out, and she stood up tall in her place as Nick tried to hold still. She thrust her paws in the air and sung out passionately, wiggling her body. "I got the peaches— he's got the cream! 'Pour _Your_ Sugar _On Me_ '!"

The rabbit started to mime the lyrics of the hard rock song. The fox, for his part, tried his hardest not to burst out with a gigantic torrent of laughs at the sight. Harriet's tiny paws scraped against her face— her eyes tightly closed with her mouth wide open. The bunny slapped her rear end and wiggled her head. Harriet's whole body posing submissively, she licked the fur along her arm and then swung her head from side to side, following that up with a loud pant.

"Please, Harriet, stop," Walter called over, stepping off of the couch, "I can literally see in my mind's eye the _'sugar'_ gettin' dripped by someone onto your—"

"Well!" Nick exclaimed, glancing over at the hallway as well, "Bonnie's not here to see her niece right now, thankfully, so that's a moot point... _but_ , as for all of you, _listen_!" He cleared his throat, and he playfully scuffled the heads of all four bunnies cuddled up against his body. The other rabbits laying about on the rug also gave the fox their full attention. "I'm not exactly immune to the cold either— hard as is to believe, I know— so I'm going to go ahead and lie down on the couch."

The little ones made various confused sounds as Nick slid slowly out of his chair. Walter smirked, rubbing a paw against the creases and wrinkles down his arm, and motioned for the fox to go right ahead. Nick comically knelt down. Swishing his rear end, tail flopping about, he jumped off of the floor onto the couch. The fox closed his eyes and pressed his head against the side cushion, taking in a very deep breath.

Nick nearly choked a split-second later. Getting a mouth full of cold fur while still trying to breathe, he popped his eyes back open and wiggled about in place. The fox's head pressed hard against the cushion, he watched as all eleven young bunnies hopped up onto the couch as well. They shoved themselves in deep as they cuddled up against his body. As different as the little rabbits were, their various sizes and shapes somehow fit neatly together across Nick's body— looking a lot like the colorful pieces in those puzzle games that both Bonnie and Juliet were addicted to.

Nick closed his eyes yet again. He didn't even try to stop himself from giggling. He worked himself up to a bunch of gleeful chuckles, the movements making the fat rabbit lying prostrate across his chest have to wiggle about in place. The fox smiled from cheek to cheek as he took in deep breaths. The sheer contrast of fluff against fluff, ranging from his neck down to the tips of his paws. seemed so blissful. The little ones had gotten just as much warm fox fur as they'd needed.

"Well, 'cousin' Nick," Walter began, making the air quotes as he bounced over to the large table at the edge of the couch, "I should've seen this comin' the minute after the heat broke, right?"

"Hold on just a cotton-pickin' minute, Uncle," Nick replied, jokingly rolling his eyes a little bit, "the only room left is right atop my head. You appear to be a bit too big for that, I'm afraid."

The older bunny groaned— Nick thinking that it sounded one part 'annoyed grunt' plus three parts 'raw laughter'. Walter brought a paw up against a pillow and gazed at the eleven little ones. Arms, chests, tails, and all of the rest bunched up ever closer together as they all breathed in and out. The rabbits looked lost in their warm relaxation. The fox, for his part, enjoyed every second of it more than he could put into words.

The pretty bunny with the big red bow shivered a bit. Her twitching nose and big cheeks scraped all along the fox's neck. Nick suddenly felt aware of his collar for the first time in quite a while. Various memories began to pop up in the back of his mind. Yet they all seemed so hazy and indistinct. Even seeing and hearing it in his mind's eyes and ears once again— even having his muscles relieve bits of the past shocks that had hit him over and over again, just one year ago—failed to push Nick out of his moment of joy.

Nick slid his arms forward, and his paws slipped against the smooth fur of the two rabbits clutched to his belly. His senses seemed to have melted. He gripped their fur tightly against his and let himself close his eyes completely. His mind went to something like a warm, soft blankness— as if he had some kind of bunny-blanket wrapping around his brain.

The peaceful holiday night went on. Things got to where nobody wanted to move an inch— Nick least of all. Various thoughts bubbled up telling the fox that he probably had something that he needed to do plus something that he needed to check up on; the smell of rice, corn, carrots, and the rest wafting gently across the living room.

He didn't care. None of them cared.

"Alright!" Judy yelled. She carefully held up a massive platter as she stepped through the hallway. "Who wants carrot cake! It looks absolutely perfect, if I do say so myself—"

She froze in place, her mother coming up behind her with yet another platter covered in treats, as she took in the entire scene. Moonlight shone on through the nearby window, bursting past the half of the glass coated in snow, and reflected across the various shiny knickknacks laid out upon a set of old wooden shelves. The scattered light rained down upon a pile of orange fur, white fur, and grey fur mingled all together. Locked in a deep sleep, with mouth after mouth featuring pleasant smiles, the rabbits and their special fox had covered up almost every nook and cranny of the old couch.

"Uncle Walter, I," Judy began, noticing just a second later that the older rabbit had fallen asleep. His head leaned against a corner of the couch as he loudly snored.

"Oh, goodness," Juliet interjected, passing through Bonnie and Judy as seamlessly as a breeze through a screen door, "just look at cousin Nick and my Harriet."

Judy and her mother stepped forward without saying a thing. As they placed their trays of treats on a large table, Bonnie held a paw on her cheek. Judy merely stared silently. Harriet had curled herself against Nick's head— poising herself with paws locked upon his shoulder as well as her open mouth right upon one of his ears. She looked as if she had crawled up to chomp that ear right off of Nick's head. The combination of her shiny white buckteeth on the fox's orange fur plus the bit of drool slipping out of her mouth was hilariously perfect.

Juliet slowly hopped over to the lamp beside the couch, switching it off. Judy awkwardly coughed before turning to stare at her mother. Bonnie stared back. Neither of them knew what to say. Finally, as the peculiar moment painfully stretched on and on, Judy opened up her mouth first.

"So, _'cousin'_ Nick," she whispered, irritation practically dripping from her words. She idly scratched against her chest, her paw rubbing against her badge. "That's how it is, then." Her ears drooped even more than before.

"That's right, sweetheart," Bonnie replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

Judy searched for some kind of profound thing to say back. She couldn't make up a thing; her mind faced something like a solid brick wall. She let her head sink down a bit and then stared at the middle of her mother's dress. "He's not actually related to us _at all_ , mom."

"He's family."

"He's _a fox_ , mom."

"That doesn't mean that he's not _family_."

Judy cried out in raw frustration, gripping both ears with her paws, and stamped against the rug beneath her. She shifted her head down even more, eyes burning imaginary holes into her mother's legs. Judy then shut her mouth tightly before looking back at the couch. Bonnie kept quiet all the while, having experienced Judy's petulant child act too many times to count.

Meanwhile, Juliet tried her best to wake up Walter without stirring any of the other rabbits. Bonnie silently stepped away from her daughter and over to the large table. She reached out and made everything look as fancy and presentable as she could. The sweet smell of the food filled the entire living room before too long.

"Mom!" Judy suddenly exclaimed, hopping closer.

The three older rabbits— Bonnie, Juliet, and Walter altogether— stood up straight and focused their eyes on Judy. The police officer tried to calm herself, holding her arms down and tapping them against her uniform, and she put some confidence into her voice. It didn't help that Walter appeared to fall right back into slumber. Nor did Judy enjoy the judgmental looks coming from the her aunt and mother alike. Still, with one eye on Nick and the various little ones still fast asleep and another on her mother, Judy opened up her mouth wide and cleared her throat.

"It's Christmastime, isn't it?" Judy asked. Though nobody said anything back, nor did they even nod, she went on. "That means—" She pointed over at the immense tree in the corner of the living room, batches of crimson tinsel and matching red ornaments decorating it from top to bottom. "It's the time of year when carrot farmers, soybean farmers, wheat farmers, and all other kinds of rabbits all over Bunnyburrow go to a big forest for, well—" She shut her eyes as various emotions made war inside of her, causing her blood to feel as if it had slowly started turning to acid.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Bonnie asked, putting on the most caring, motherly tone of voice that she could.

" _It's_ ," Judy exclaimed, though realizing that she'd been far louder than she'd meant, "I mean, it's time where... it's that season when it's not that bad of a thing to put in, right in your living room..." She took a gulp before finally spitting it out. "An _'evergreen'_."

Bonnie and Juliet remained silent as their minds raced, trying to process the consequences of what Judy had just said. Walter suddenly stirred. He slumped away from the couch, lying flat on the rug. When Bonnie reached over to help him up, he pushed her away dismissively, knocking over a stack of books on a nearby shelf as he shuffled around.

"Oh, you _old coot_ , just let me really help you for once," Bonnie remarked, leaning over once again, "oh, for goodness' sake!"

"Pour... your... sugar... on... me..." Walter muttered out of nowhere.

 _"What?"_ Bonnie, Judy, and Juliet all murmured back, sharing the same flat expression as well.

"Oh, it's... I'm sorry. I got exposed to one of those 'earworms' earlier," Walter said, "and now that it was mentioned, I'll hear it in my head all—" He blinked rapidly, letting out a hearty laugh, before dragging himself onto his feet by clutching the nearby lamp. "Oh, never mind. Long story. Or, uh, unimportant short story. Forget about it."

"I won't _forget_ about it," Judy interjected. The older rabbits gave her their full attention, eyes open up wide. Judy weighed every word carefully as she felt the intense pressure of the room— it seemed so thick that she might as well had tried to breath at the bottom of the ocean. "But... I won't necessarily have to do anything about it... at least, not anytime during the holidays."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much for reading!
> 
> This is a part of the 'Thematic Thursday' event series that a bunch of fans of Nick, Judy, and the rest of the heroes have been doing. As stated above, this is also the third piece in a multi-story series, with the pieces 'Walk Away Renee' and 'Theirs & Hours', respectively, happening first chronologically. I'm not positive where I want to take this, but I have a bunch of ideas. I want to note that I've tweaked this a bit after uploading it as well. Please comment if you have any thoughts, concerns, or anything else. In addition, once again, thank you for looking at this.


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